Curse of the Orichalcos
by catbracy
Summary: Ever since the Pharaoh played the Seal of Orichalcos, a darkness had taken root within him. Since completing his duel with Yugi, the evil inside him had been destroyed. Yet now, returned to Egypt as the king, he must fight both the enemies outside their borders while grappling with the returned darkness of his inner self.
1. Chapter 1 The Story of Atlantis

"My Pharaoh, are you alright?"

"I've felt better, Seto."

Rania edged closer, trying to see around the pillar behind which she hid. Instinct told her that it would be curtains if she was found out, especially here, in the royal throne room. The giant Eyes of Horus, painted on either side of the seat in question, did little to help matters; they seemed to stare right through the stone. Taking a breath, somewhat comforted by the fact that she was descended from a nameless noble of the palace, she held back and decided to keep listening.

"You should retire, my king. That was the last audience scheduled for tonight, after all."

"I think I will." Rania shrank back as footfalls moved toward her hiding place, then passed by. "It has been a long day for all of us." She waited to hear Atem add, "Make sure that you close the passage when you're gone."

Hearing Priest Seto snort in amusement at his supposed secret, she heard two pairs of footsteps moving in opposite directions. Knowing which belonged to whom, she waited until the entire hall was clear. Then she crept between the pillars, darting from shadow to moonlit shadow as she made her way through the echoing chamber.

The usual guards were surprisingly attentive tonight, doubled up as they were in order to ensure the safety of their king. Thanking the gods for her raven hair and tan skin, Rania drew her cloak about her as she strode swiftly and silently along the wall. The only thing that presented any kind of hindrance was the Pharaoh himself, for he had disappeared.

Staying in the shade of the palace, she listened to the desert night for any telltale signs: the protest of a guard, the cries of amazement from villagers, such were the sounds that often accompanied royalty, even at this late hour.

However, there was none.

Rania gazed around, wondering how a person weighed down with all that jewelry could have vanished without the slightest sound. Eventually, she made the logical decision to track him down by the footprints in the sand, glad of the unique design that so conveniently graced the bottom of many a royal sandle.

After casting about for a while, trying to go undetected by the guards, she found the pattern she was looking for: many curved lines running horizontally from the top to the bottom, almost wave like. Gazing ahead as to where they lead, she was only a little surprised to find that they ran toward the sanctuary of Isis, the High Priestess of the Pharaoh's council.

Wondering how he'd managed to refuse an escort, Rania started toward the pyramid-shaped structure, grateful for the cover of darkness that was said to have also shielded many a thief in King Aknemkanan's rule. Figuring she'd be thought of as likewise if she were caught, she hurried onwards across the dunes, yet she stopped short both in awe and a little fear when she crested the next small hill.

Atem was striding toward the entrance, moving purposefully, the hem of his dark-purple cape just dusting the sand. Gaining access into the sanctuary, he placed a hand on the side of the doors, and looked alertly about, his violet eyes nearly piercing the night with condemnation for any would-be wrongdoers.

Rania simply wrapped her cloak around herself all the tighter, praying in between quickened breaths that the distance between them was enough, staying stone still.

With nary a further glance behind him, the Pharaoh passed between the doors, which started to rumble into place, nearly shutting Rania out. Quickly, she speed-walked to them, glancing behind herself just in case, and as the great stone returned to its former position, Rania found herself in the abode of the High Priestess.

"I suspected you would come, my king."

Rania stayed by the entrance in case she needed to make a hasty retreat; besides, the echoing voices carried well enough, even falling on ears that were not meant for this meeting. Between the pillars, she could easily see the flickering flames of the fountain, the only light in that place, but so bright was its glow that there was hardly any need for the usual torches.

Peering around the pillar once more, she saw Atem approach the fire where the Priestess was seated, her hands curled in a cupping motion around her Millennium Necklace.

"And so I have, Isis," he answered, stopping on the opposite side of the stone that encircled the fountain. "Have you anything to report on the state of things?"

Isis gave a small smile, then closed her eyes in deep concentration. "The future is not always set in stone, my Pharaoh. However, my necklace foresees . . ." her brows drew closer together in a troubled expression, "The same entity seems to be stirring on the outside of our realm . . . a dark and powerful force . . . Although, it wears the same aura as the Enemy possessed . . ." She gave a small sigh, and the glow from her Item diminished. "It is beyond my power to tell anything more."

"That's alright, Isis," Atem said. "You've seen a little more, and it is valuable information." He nodded his head in grateful acknowledgement of her services, the gold adorning both their headpieces shining in the firelight. "However, please, try not to strain yourself."

Giving a tilt to her own head as she opened her eyes, the flicker of a frown then darted across Isis' features.

Rania caught her breath as it threatened to hiss out sharply from between her teeth, and she ducked behind the pillar; she had leaned outward, increasingly curious with each passing second. Relying on her ears to relay the next bit of information, she kept her eyes open, staring at the dank stone opposite her as she listened hard.

"Is that all?"

Breathing a sigh of relief that the Pharaoh hadn't noticed Isis' disturbed notion, Rania waited anxiously to hear what the response would be.

"Yes, my king. However, I must implore you: please bring an escort for these things."

Atem's footsteps started toward the doors, then they paused as Isis continued, "The darkness lives within our walls as well."

Hearing a rustle of silk as he turned back around, Rania edged around the pillar in such a way so that she wouldn't be seen by Atem. He walked out into the night, the doors opening obediently before him.

Yet as she glanced toward the fire, whose gaze should she meet but that of the High Priestess!

Rania sucked air in sharply, waiting with baited breath as to what fate would befall her for eavesdropping on this most secret meeting.

Yet that air hissed out in surprise as Isis merely smiled and commented, "Shouldn't you be in bed, Rania?"

Her shock not lost on Isis, Rania nodded mutely and wordlessly slipped out the doors, which opened silently into the shadows, as she headed toward the village.

She had seen all she could afford to see for one night.

...

"And that's all she said?"

"Yes, but it hardly seems to make sense, at least to me."

"Rania, when you are as old as I am, many things that don't make sense before do . . . in time."

Charissa's daughter smiled at the thought, sitting on a blanket nearest her chair, and though she knew it to be true, she couldn't help but doubt her mother's statement, given her appearance. Soft, warm brown eyes gazed out from a careworn face, and only a few streaks of gray shot through her long black hair, like shooting stars on a moonless night. The long, plain linen dress she wore only accentuated her beauty in Rania's eyes, for she had looked up to Charissa always, especially after she had become a widow.

By order of King Aknemkanan, all of the guards, warriors, and men of military age and fitness had been rounded up seven years ago. This was done in order to battle the followers and creatures of the Thief King, Bakura. Of the thousand men that had ventured forth to rid the land of that evil, only a few score had returned; none went unscathed, least of all Rania's father, Aharon. He was one of the commanders that had been charged with overseeing the whole operation. According to the reports of the few survivors, the commanders were the ones to suffer the most. The more power a body had been given, the more pain and humiliation they were subjected to at the hands of the Thief King. Only the most horrifying details were spared from the crowd that had come flocking to the gates, for the sake of both the survivors and the many women who had become widows or lost sons on that fateful night.

"I understand that with wisdom comes age," Rania remarked, "and yet, it just felt like an instinct. Something wasn't right about the Pharaoh." She gazed anxiously out of the stone-hewn window in the side of the building where they lived together, toward the dim outline of the palace walls that loomed above the rest of the land.

Charissa placed a hand on Rania's cheek reassuringly. "My daughter, it is natural to possess a healthy fear of a monarch, yet I know that what you say is true. I feel that the High Priestess is wishing you would keep watch over Atem."

"But Mother, what purpose would there be in that? He is the King of Egypt, the Chosen One who commands the Egyptian Gods! I am only-"

"The daughter of one of his strongest commanders? So you are," Charissa nodded, watching the fear slowly start to fade from Rania's eyes at this reassurance.

"He has an entire retinue of guards at his beck and call! How would I be aiding them in any way?"

"Why, by being there when they are not, just like you were tonight."

"He holds the wisdom of generations that came before, taught by the best scholars in the kingdom."

"And you have a wiser head on your shoulders than some of them have, and a bravery as strong as your father's, Rania."

"But why?" she finally asked, resting her elbow on the arm of Charissa's rocker. "How do you know I speak the truth?"

"I believe the darkness that Isis predicted is now among us, for this would not be the first time it has corrupted the hearts of men." Saying this, Charissa cleared her throat in answer. Rania sat forward, recognizing the sound of a story soon to be told.

"Five thousand years ago, there was an island floating in the ocean, surrounded by all sides. This was the city of Atlantis, and within its walls walked humans and the spirits of the beasts that today are sealed away in tablets. Yes, the monsters and men lived at peace with one another, and their way of life was simple. Then, one day, an unknown darkness descended over Atlantis, and when it fell on the people, so did shards of a mystical stone known as the Orichalcos. It granted knowledge and power to the City, and the civilization grew by leaps and bounds. However, eventually, the people became corrupt and power-hungry. As their hearts shriveled, so did their appearances; they became more beast-like than any of the monster spirits they lived beside."

Rania's eyes widened; this was the first time she had heard this particular story.

"Only their brave and noble leader named Ironheart refused to give in to the spell, standing in the way of his son Dartz, who believed that the city had to be destroyed because of the violence that the Orichalcos had caused. Ironheart begged Dartz to destroy the stones and let the people return to the old ways, but his son would not hear of it. He had succeeded in reviving a monstrous dragon, the great Leviathan, to aid him, as the Orichalcos had instructed. But Ironheart, assisted by his granddaughter and a group of refugees, called upon the Legendary Knights: Critius, Timaeus, and Hermos to form an army. They set forth to do battle with Dartz, the Orichalcos, and the Great Leviathan. However, neither side was the victor, for their power was too evenly matched."

"But what has any of this to do with the Pharaoh?" Rania asked. She was fascinated by the story thus far, but she failed to see how it had any relevance to her plight.

Charissa smiled gently. "Patience, my daughter. The City of Atlantis sank beneath the waves, the Great Leviathan was confined to the depths of the earth, and the Orichalcos was scattered throughout the world, until a day in the distant future. The Pharaoh's spirit lived on, and in a different form, he defeated the soul-fed Leviathan with the reincarnations of Ironheart, his granddaughter, and the three Legendary Knights. Once Atlantis sank beneath the seas again, the earth was safe. But Atem had been affected by the Orichalcos while dueling one of Dartz' minions."

"And you believe that the darkness is still within him?" Rania questioned, understanding now the emotions that she'd felt in his presence.

Her mother looked at her grimly. "I do. The fear that was possessing you was not the fact that he's the king, because you still had the courage to follow and hear the High Priestess' predictions. It was the work of that cursed stone. Though he does not show it, the Seal of the Orichalcos is still branded into the heart of our King."


	2. Chapter 2 The Encounter

Atem paced around his inner chamber, thoughts of the High Priestess's words running through his head. The darkness lives within our walls as well. The young king swung around for yet another turn down the length of his lavish private apartment, faintly amused that he had worn nary a groove in the cold stone. He had become puzzled as to what the cryptic message could mean, although, deep within, he could feel something stir.

With that sensation came one of the Pharaoh's most vivid flashbacks, one that had been teasing on the fringes of his memory since his return to Egypt. Now, it swam into the full focus of his mind's eye, in all its horror.

"It only needs one of us, so I'm letting the Seal take me instead," he could still hear Yugi say. His face, smiling sadly, was then enveloped by the sickly green light, as his soul shot up into the sky to join the zillions of sacrifices made to the Great Leviathan. "No! YUGI!" Atem heard himself yell in his memory, breathless and horror-stricken at the magnitude of the sacrifice Yugi had made to save him.

To this day, the Pharaoh still felt that, had he taken Yugi's place, he would have been given his just deserts for everything he and those kings before him had done. With the disappearance of his best friend's face came the darkness: that evil force which consumed the space in Atem's heart that Yugi had previously filled. It brought a need for solitude, along with a continuous anger smoldering within him that the just ruler could not have explained before that fateful event.

Realizing the need for solitude was what he'd been thinking of, Atem strode over to a gilded chest in the corner of his chamber. From this he withdrew a cloak befitting his status, yet it was one well-suited to the prospect of disguising royalty: floor-length, and hooded, so it would cover both his conspicuous sandals and crown. Throwing it over himself, Atem slipped out his chamber door, avoiding the light of the flickering torches that were placed in sconces down the royal corridors, and merely glancing at the guards that knew better than to stop him during one of his nightly excursions.

Making his way down the halls, he soon came to a side door that was a favorite escape route of his when the pressures of his title demanded that he rest his mind. Opening it, he went through, glancing around should anyone take notice, but of course at such a late hour most of his Council would be taking their rest. The only guards posted would be those on night patrol, and they would only be watching the main entrances. Once again, without an escort, Atem walked alone among the desert sands, thankful for the cool night air and the various sounds that allowed him to take a respite. However, one sound stood apart from the murmurings of the beasts and insects a-prowl on their nocturnal hunts.

It was a simple song, yet an almost timeless tune, even when it fell on untrained ears; a haunting melody. Carried on the wind from the direction of the village, it fell pure and sweet on the king's restless mind. Unbidden, as if pulled by the escaping part of his soul, Atem's feet guided him until he was standing in the shadow of the humble building opposite it, across the way. The singer was framed against flickering firelight in the only window of the one-story building. Her arm resting on the stone windowsill, she looked to be a young girl almost his age, with dark-brown eyes, tan skin, and raven hair. Her arched eyebrows gave her a determined countenance, yet her gaze was soft as she looked up into the night sky, her hair falling just past her shoulder-blades; a stark contrast to the white linen dress she wore.

Atem had never seen one so regal in his court; not in the dancing girls that performed for him in the palace's frequent ceremonies, nor in the ladies that came to reside in his court seeking his hand to form this alliance or that treaty. He could only stare in wonder at this girl without blot or blemish, whose wordless tune rose to the gods themselves. Then, that dark stirring came again, and Atem knew that, should he stay silent, the very goodness of her song would cause a part of him to turn to far darker thoughts.

"By Ra . . ." He started forward a few steps, until he was in a shaft of moonlight.

A soft gasp came from her as her clouded eyes bade her back into reality, and she abruptly stopped singing as she gave a start and looked about. It wasn't long for her dark-adjusted eyes to find Atem. Her eyes widening fractionally, she asked, "Who are you to be watching me in the dead of night?"

"Forgive me, perhaps I can be of more clarity," the Pharaoh said, the corner of his mouth twitching at her pride. He came forward a few paces more, lowering his hood as he did so.

He noticed her arm jerk slightly on the sill in surprise, and move towards her body as though to protect herself. Her face underwent a similar change as she gasped once, her eyes widened a little more, then it passed as she bowed her head deeply. "I sincerely hope that you will accept my apology, my king."

"All is forgiven," Atem said as she raised her head in surprise. "I believe your song has made up for that slight. Tell me, wherever did you learn that tune?"

Gazing briefly up at the stars again, as a little color came into her cheeks, she replied, "My father taught it to me when I was younger."

"It sounded like it did not have its origins in Egypt. Might he have learned it somewhere else?" Atem found himself becoming slightly surprised at his own words. To think that here he was, entranced through the song of what appeared to be a mere peasant, a girl no less, and he was speaking to her as an equal! Seto, his High Priest, could very well be called a hypocrite for going against the one rule he had warned the Pharaoh against (with Kisara, since it was the palace's worst kept secret.): that the bloodline of any classes lower than royalty must not have the power to attract His Highness's attention, let alone anything else. However, reflecting on how he had been compelled to speak, Atem merely shrugged that warning off, for surely the girl before him could do no harm. All this raced through his head in the matter of a few seconds, as he kept his attention on her.

"Yes. He traveled to many lands when he served in the army, and he learned it himself during his journeys." Lowering her gaze and smiling softly at the sill, she said, "Consequently, I would always ask him for the name of that place, as it was something of an ongoing banter between us. Yet every time he came home, he would always say, "One more journey, my Rania. Perhaps I'll return to that land to learn more of that divine music."" A little red tinged her cheeks at, the Pharaoh guessed, the realization that she had unwittingly given the King her name, yet in a little haste, as though to hide it, she took a breath and continued, "Therefore, I gained something one normally wouldn't expect a commander's daughter to have: a love of music and song."

A commander's daughter? The Pharaoh's mind raced to connect any general- that may have been under himself or his father- with a passion for music. Eventually, he lit on a match, which was a memory of his own father telling him of one such person. Returning his gaze solely on Rania, for his eyes had strayed to the firelight behind her while he was thinking, he asked, "Was his name Aharon?"

"Yes!" The girl locked her gaze with Atem again quickly, wonder and a hint of fear showing itself in her doe-brown eyes. "But how did you know of him? He was killed long before you took the throne!"

Nodding in agreement with her statement, experiencing similar feelings to what he guessed she was going through, the Pharaoh explained hesitantly, "As the succeeding king, it was my duty to learn everything I could about how to conduct the people, especially my soldiers. Thus, my father told me of yours, as an example of whom I should choose to lead my army."

"He and his advisors must have prepared you well for your reign. My condolences, my lord, for the late King, Aknemkanan." Atem thought he must have been staring a little too intently at her, in surprise at her words, for Rania reddened and fell silent, nervously scratching at the stone sill with one fingernail.

She looked up in mirrored awe when Atem responded to her offer with the like: "I am equally sorry about Commander Aharon. He was a good man, as well as a valuable friend and loyal protector of my father."

Rania gave him a thankful smile that made the young king feel as though he was far above being King of Egypt. He waited as she looked about to speak, then she looked over her white-clad shoulder toward a female murmur from the humble hearth that the king had seen through the window, for he had moved progressively forward for a few paces while conversing with Rania. Turning back, she said, "I am afraid I have to retire for the night, my lord. It is my mother's wish that I shan't be up so late."

"That is quite understandable, Rania. I should do so as well, so as not to set the palace by the ears." Viewing the slight reluctance in her eyes, and hearing the regret in her voice, it was for this reason that Atem made this quip: to see the genuine smile grace her mouth, and to see her doe-brown eyes light up after the previous subjects they had discussed. Smiling himself, Atem turned away to begin his trek back to the palace, but suddenly a thought occurred to him. Taking a few paces forward before turning back to the humble edifice, he said, rather sharply, "Rania."

"Yes?" Visible once again was fear, however, in her wide eyes it was the first real fear that Atem had seen during the entirety of their conversation. _It is more than just my authority over people like her . . . No, it is indeed something else . . . But what?_ She had abruptly whirled around from where she'd been moving toward the fire, and now, her arms at her sides, she looked anxiously out the window at him.

"Would you . . . Could you . . . sing for me?"

It was such a simple request that he had actually expected her to refuse. Surprisingly, Rania nodded her head and cleared her throat in answer. In an instant, through her open mouth came the pure melody of before, as she took her seat at the window once more.

Satisfied, Atem watched her for a few more moments, nodding and smiling encouragingly whenever it looked like she grew nervous. Then he walked back across the desert sands, his hood up, with Rania's music settling on his soul like balm on a long-infected wound. Each day, he could feel the darkness move within him like a restless beast, and even during the past encounter it had briefly arisen at the sensation of Rania's fear, longing to slowly and agonizingly extend its own power over her. For the Orichalcos had sensed one of the brightest souls it had come across in a long time, and eventually, as was only natural, the darkness would prevail over the radiance.

The work of man's greatest fear was never done.

...

 **Hey, Fanfic world! Catbracy here. Welcome to the end of my second chapter! This is the only fanfic that I think I'll actually finish with good ideas, so I hope you enjoy the next time I update. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I'm loosely basing Atem's character off of the Phantom from the Phantom of the Opera, and I might be drawing inspiration from his YGO Season 0 version as well. I thought that'd be an interesting mashup, so I hope you find it good too! If anybody has any suggestions for down the road, I'd be willing to incorporate them, depending on how the story goes, so yeah! I'm looking forward from hearing from you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3 A Fate Unwinding

"Now, do not forget your true mission, my child," Charissa said as she finished combing Rania's hair.

"How could I forget, Mother? He reminds me every night," Rania remarked as she lifted her gaze toward the palace that gleamed in the setting sun.

"His devotion is precisely what worries me," her mother remarked, as she turned Rania around to face her. She smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, erasing the troubled expression that had been on her face but a few seconds before.

"What do you mean, Mother? You know he hasn't acted toward me without respect," Rania explained. "He has always conducted himself in a manner befitting his status, even when he was unaware of my watching him. Why should he start now?"

Charissa sighed and placed a hand on Rania's cheek, looking at her with caring eyes. "You must remember that our king is not merely under the influence of the crown." Viewing the determination that came into her daughter's eyes, Charissa's own filled with pride as she exhaled all her fears out in one breath. "Forgive me, Rania. I seem to keep forgetting that you are indeed Aharon's daughter. However . . . "

Her mother trailed off as she went over to the cot that she and Rania shared. From the dark crevices between the stone and the farther edge of it, she removed a brick in the wall. From this she withdrew a small cloth pouch, replaced the stone, and straightening, presented it to Rania.

". . .with the strength and boldness of your father comes also the empathy and feeling of your mother," Charissa finished as Rania pulled out a neckalace. It was a small pendant, with a white diamond enclosed in its center, surrounded by a rim of gold. Charissa took it and fastened it around Rania's neck, as Rania turned her head in question.

"But, Mother, Father's war pendant? Why?" she protested.

"I gave this to him as a token when he first went to war with Aknemkanan's army. It saw him through many perils, and it was the only remnant of him the remaining soldiers could find after the Theif King had finished his destruction that night." Her voice tightened, even now, so many years after her beloved's death. "I think it fitting that you should wear it at this time . . . "

"Because you rightly view my audience with the Pharaoh as my first true peril?" Rania asked, as she turned back around.

In answer, her mother hugged Rania tightly, as though this would be the last time. "I just don't know what I would do if I were to lose you too," Charissa said, burying her face in Rania's hair, her voice breaking.

Hugging Charissa to her in response, Rania said, her breath quickening a little, "Mother, I promise you, I won't let this audience change anything. I shall keep my soul as pure as the color of Father's pendant, and I will keep a clear mind. I will also be polite, but not overly submissive, especially to the corruption of the Orichalcos that our king is enthralled to. For no doubt the hour at which this audience is to take place has awoken your fears."

"Spoken just like your father," Charissa said, as she pulled back to hold her daughter at arm's length, beaming with pride. "You are wise beyond your years, Rania, and that will serve you well wherever the wind takes you." She smiled and gestured toward the palace, opening the stout wooden door of their home's entrance. "Now off with you. He'll be waiting."

...

Her heart beating even more fiercely than when she had stood in the palace's grand shadow, Rania respectfully stood before the empty throne, a few steps down from the raised dias. As one can imagine, she was quite apprehensive as to what was going to take place. Fingering her pendant nervously, to have something to occupy her hands, she whirled around at the sound of a voice that echoed throughout the previously silent columned hall. "What are you doing here?"

She came face to face with the High Priest Seto, his brows furrowing in annoyance, making a gesture, as he walked impatiently toward her. He was quite an imposing figure; both his manner of dress and his Millennium Rod publicly proclaimed that he was the Pharaoh's most loyal servent. The Millennium Rod, the sacred gift bestowed upon him by King Aknemkanan, was held in his fist. The golden sphere crowning the artifact was parallel to the floor, and it did not escape Rania's notice that it was pointed unsettlingly at her.

She dropped to the floor on one knee, bowing her head. "Forgive me, my lord Seto. Please be assured that I meant no disrespect." She kept her head bent until she heard the High Priest's slightly sinister voice.

"Why do you kneel as a soldier would before their commander?" A smirk was on his face, as his cold blue eyes looked down at her beneath the customary gilded headdress. "And why do you address me by name?" At this moment, Seto chose to hold the Rod upright, with the end resting on the floor. Even the unmoving eyes of the golden seraph near the top of his adornment seemed to shift towards her in spite.

The reemphasized reminder of the Rod's power did little to calm Rania's mind. Straightening her back and shoulders, she answered, fully aware of her honesty, "Perhaps it is because I am the daughter of the late Commander Aharon."

For a moment, Rania saw his eyes glance toward her neck, where Aharon's pendant hung on a thin golden chain. She saw them grow in size slightly, then it faded. "Next you will be telling me that the Pharaoh himself sent for you," Seto smiled without mirth as his fingers tightened on the Rod. "Only dreaming commoners can think up such tales. Now tell me, what is your true purpose here?" The Millenium Rod seemed to descend toward her slowly . . .

"Seto! What in the Pharaoh's name is going on here?!"

Isis was standing in a small antechamber that branched off of the throne room, glaring sternly at him. Rania was surprised. She'd never seen the High Priestess even remotely upset before.

Seto jerked the Rod upright and turned toward her. "I found this commoner loitering about in this room, Isis. Who knows to what tainting this ground has been subject?"

"You may rise, Rania," Isis said, gesturing for her to stand. She did so gratefully, as Seto looked at her incredulously with Isis's next words. "Your _commoner,_ Seto, is indeed the daughter of Commander Aharon, and as it so happens, she is also late for an audience that was made with the Pharaoh a little while ago."

"I . . . Well . . . I will be on my way," he muttered sullenly, striding quickly into the antechamber past Isis as both she and Rania breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come," Isis said, beckoning towards the narrow stone corridor that led out of the antechamber. Rania nodded and fell into step beside her, viewing the end of Seto's cloak disappear behind a corner. Thankfully they went the opposite way.

"I confess, the Pharaoh is detained at this moment. He is holding Council with my comrades, and thus he only reserves his most important audiences after matters have been dealt with," Isis explained as she guided Rania through what she thought of as a maze of corridors, chambers, and antechambers. "He sent me for you now, however, so you will be better prepared to be recieved by him when the Coucil is dismissed."

Nodding in understanding, Rania asked, "Does Seto act that way toward all 'commoners'?"

"Unfortunately, he usually does." Sighing in exasperation at the mention of her comrade, Isis continued, "He seems to favor rank over any other qualities a person may possess." Smiling slightly at Rania, she remarked, "That is also why the Pharaoh sent for you when he did, so any incidental occurrences could have been avoided. In light of that . . . " she trailed off to gesture to two tall, gilded double-doors where the hall ended and widened to accomodate their size, "would you like to listen?"

Her eyes opening at the thought of this opportunity, Rania stammered, "I . . .would be honored, Isis."

"Then come in here, so that no one disturbs you," she said, directing Rania toward another small antechamber in which sat a three-legged stool. She turned to the doors, saying, "I must go hear my comrades, and signal that my duty is done. I will come back and fetch you when it is over."

When Rania signaled she had understood, Isis opened one of the doors silently, and went through, taking care to close it so it would remain noiseless. Rania instantly pulled her stool up to the wall, and rested her ear against it, letting her eyes wander over the hieroglyphs that covered each stone surface of the palace with its history.

"My Pharaoh," she first heard Isis say, announcing herself.

"Isis," his voice acknowledged. Rania then guessed that some signal must have been given, for muffled footfalls proclaimed that the High Priestess was making her way to her seat. Once they ceased, the Pharaoh resumed what must have been his previous sentence, for all had gone quiet once Isis had walked in.

"As you are all aware, I have recieved word from our outlying villages of a very troubling account. A creature has been sighted along the way to the palace, terrorizing the villagers wherever it walks. However, those unfortunate enough to lay eyes on it die within a few hours of the sighting."

"One of our own spoke to an eyewitness, Your Majesty?" Rania recognized the slightly gruff voice as that of Karim, one of the High Priests and the owner of the Millenium Scale.

"Indeed, Karim. Just within the past few days, I recieved news of these disturbances, and so Priest Mahad was sent out in order to investigate the source of these hauntings."

Inferring that a gesture to speak had taken place, Rania got into a more comfortable position on the stool, so as to concentrate all her might on the upcoming report.

"It is true what my lord Pharaoh has said so far," came the voice of Mahad, the Keeper of the Millenium Ring. "I rode through every village outside the palace walls, searching for more information. I was eventually pointed toward the village of Satus, which marked the farthest extent of the main road through the kingdom."

"And if I may ask, what did you find there, Mahad?" Rania instantly recognized the accented, easily distinguishable tones of Shada, the owner of the Millenium Key.

"The original witness, a young farmer, had passed on a few days previous. His relatives had been able to ascertain a description of this spectre that had appeared, yet, I fear they got nothing more from him than I did from hearing their stories."

"What did they say concerning this spectre, Mahad?" A voice that croaked slightly with age sounded amongst the musing quiet that had fallen upon the High Priests.

"Only that it was unidentifiable, at least to them, Aknadin. However, the farmer's relatives depicted this creature as "tattered, hardly human, and constantly moaning aloud as it shuffled down the road toward this city. It kept repeating the words, _"Victory will be mine, yet not by my hand."_ "

"I suppose in their fright they forgot to ask the farmer for details," she heard Seto sneer.

"Seto, please. Would you condemn them for not wishing to talk of a loved one's death?" Isis asked sternly.

"I would merely regard them as insufficient givers of advice, advice that a High Priest rightfully demands."

"Peace, Seto," the Pharaoh's voice commanded. "Is that all, Mahad?"

"Yes, my Pharaoh. The only other information was that I recieved the same reports from the farthest establishments: of all witnesses perishing, and that spectre making its way toward this palace."

"Then we have some time," Rania heard the King say with what might have been a sigh of relief. "Mahad."

"My king."

"Tomorrow at first light, you are to take your best magicians up to the peak of Nesapet. You shall work together to cast a protection spell over the entire area, for hopefully this creature is not immune to sorcery."

"It shall be done, my lord."

"Seto, I am charging you with deploying a quarter of the garrison to the outlying villages, for if this spectre strikes again, I will not wish death upon my people."

After half a minute of silence, and a quiet noise of reluctance, Seto murmured, "Yes, my lord."

"And if any of you discover information about this creature, you must tell me immediately."

After some signal of affirmation must have been given, he then said, "I thank you all for your aid during this time," which seemed to Rania as a form of dismissal. Footsteps answered her suspicions, for all of the High Priests, excluding Isis, came though the great doors to make their way to their retiring placrs for the night.

The only person to pay her any attention was Isis, who filed out the doors after them. "Are you prepared, Rania?"

She swallowed and stood up from her seat, moving out of the antechamber. Her heart beat even faster when Isis announced, "He will be receiving you in his chambers" as she led Rania to the most elaborately gilded, painted door at the end of a corridor that branched away from the Coucil Chamber. Rania now knew that there was more than one portal in that chamber, for how else had she not seen the Pharaoh?

Isis put a reassuring hand on Rania's shoulder as she took her father's pendant in a tight, desparate grasp for courage. "It will be alright, Rania," Isis murmured comfortingly.

Rania took a deep, steady breath, opened the door, and walked in to meet her destiny.


	4. Chapter 4 The Startling Discovery

Heart hammering, Rania stepped to the side of the door that she'd opened in order to let Isis in. The Priestess came forward a few paces and announced, "My Pharaoh."

"Yes?" He turned from where he'd been standing at the far side of the room, revealing the end of a table with a papyrus map spread on it. He had apparently been deep in thought, for he looked like one just waking from a dream. _As,_ Rania thought, _I no doubt looked when he first saw me._ Her hands clasped before her, she tried to maintain her respectful gaze toward her king without looking like she was staring as he turned completely around.

His dark-blue cape made a soft _swish_ ing sound as it revealed the traditional garb of the Kings of Egypt: a white tunic and knee-length kilt, surrounded by three bands of gold at the waist, with a blue sash extending below the gold to end at the knees. The Millennium Puzzle was hanging around his neck on a leather thong, extending to his chest. Along with that, the gold collar around his neck and on his chest were almost hidden by the neck of his cape, and it looked to fit comfortably in between the gold wing-like protrusions that seemed to sprout from the top of his shoulders. The usual bands of gold adorned his upper arms and wrists, and four bands wrapped around each lower leg below the knee. Aside from the gold bands, his shoes seemed to have been removed in favor of sandals, and two heavy-looking Ankh earrings were hanging down to just touch the neck of his cape. The crown, which looked to be fashioned after the Millennium Eye, seemed to scrutinize everything it looked at in an eerie manner.

All of this seemed to be taken in in an instant, then Rania dropped her gaze to the golden stone beneath her feet, feeling his gaze fall momentarily on her before transitioning to Isis.

"Rania, the daughter of Commander Aharon, is here at your request," Isis said formally, turning her head to indicate her prescence.

"Thank you, Isis. I will send for you to escort Rania to the village when the time comes," Atem answered with an air of finality.

Rania looked up to see the High Priestess bow her head, then she turned toward the open door. As she was going she met Rania's eye, and the gravity of what she was about to do almost made Rania turn and run out of the palace. _I'm in his power now, Isis,_ Rania tried to communicate through the look she gave the High Priestess. _I don't know if I'm brave enough to go through with this._

In answer, Isis made a subtle gesture with her hand as she reached for the door: with her index finger, she drew a circle in the air under the guise of getting her hand clasped around the handle. Rania instantly understood that she meant Aharon's pendant, which made sense, since the High Priestess would have seen him almost as often as she saw her own comrades. Rania gave a small smile to signify that she'd understood, then Isis stepped outside of the Pharaoh's chambers, and closed the door on them both.

Rania immediately turned around, her eyes humbly avoiding their subject, and she kneeled before the Pharaoh in the same manner as she had shown toward Seto: one hand hanging down at her side to touch the golden floor, the other elbow supported on the knee she bent, with her fist at a right angle across her body. "My lord," she acknowledged, then continued, "I appreciate the lengths which were taken to conduct me here safely. Now I am here, and it is my request to know what you would have of me."

She heard a small chuckle, and her breath quickened slightly when footsteps reached her ears, until two tan sandaled feet came into view. A hand of the same color reached down until it was before her eyes. "Your father taught you well," she heard Atem say as she glanced up. His violet eyes were kind, and they didn't seem to hold any trace of the animosity she had sensed when she had first been in his presence. Extending his hand lower, he said, "Please, rise."

She placed her own hand into his, hesitantly, feeling how strong and muscled it was as it tightened around hers in a gentle grip. Letting herself get pulled to her feet, Rania felt slightly nervous as the Pharaoh held her hand a minute longer. He looked at her with what seemed like sincerity. "All will be revealed in time," he continued, as he gently released her. "In the meantime, you may dispense with the formalities and call me by my name, Rania," he said as he turned toward the table, gesturing for her to follow.

"Yes, my . . . Atem," Rania stammered, feeling the name sound almost foreign as she uttered it, even though both her father and her mother had called him by name during many nocturnal discussions. Remembering guiltily that she'd often pretend to be asleep in order to listen then, she blushed suddenly at the crooked smile the Pharaoh gave her. Beckoning her over to the ornately carved table, he stood at the end while she placed herself on the left side. Bending over the map and then gesturing to it, Atem spoke. "Tell me," he commanded, "do you think I took the right course of action in regards to this apparition?"

With difficulty, Rania suppressed the thrill of panic that arose inside her heart at such words, and, remembering the most significant lesson her father taught her, she merely directed an inquisitive glance at the Pharaoh. "How would I know of such matters?" she asked, maintaining a politeful tone.

Standing up straight and looking her in the eye, Atem answered, "A number of my Council have reported an intrusion into some of the meetings of which I have partaken. The aura that was sensed was not powerful enough to be a major concern, yet it was not weak enough to go unnoticed. Naturally, we took the liberty of attributing it to a common thief, but for the past few nights, I've sensed it whenever I was in the village, and more specifically, when I've been speaking with you."

Trying to appear composed, Rania nevertheless began to feel ever-growing fear at the impending consequences she imagined herself put to. Those thoughts, added to the keenness of one so royal and intimidating, only served to quicken her heartbeat, and make her short of breath. Attempting to decide whether she should politely refute his claim, or excuse herself altogether, she then met his gaze and made her choice. "I must protest, Atem, that I meant only the best for one dear to me."

Clasping his hands behind him patiently and making a gesture for her to continue, he said, "Speak then, and prove that you are more than the many thieves that dare to lie in my prescence."

Nodding submissively, Rania began, spinning a half-truth so as not to awaken the suspicion of the Orichalcos. "My lord, I have answered your summons out of the respect that is only rightfully due to you as the protector and ruler of this land. Yet, I come also bearing a request that has been weighing on my family since my father's passing."

Atem inclined his head in curiosity, although the look in his eyes seemed to soften through, Rania guessed, the experience of losing his own father in battle. Thankful for the change that had been wrought in him, able to ask the deed of the Pharaoh with more confidence, she continued.

"Since his death seven years ago, my dwelling has fallen into disrepair. My father would often ensure that the tributes were paid, and that our home was well looked after when he was away on his journeys, yet, as you saw, our condition has worsened. My mother, young as she might still be, will not be so forever. There are few positions in the kingdom that would suit a commander's widow and daughter, for my father's service and the fact of his lineage used to be enough. Now, I see that is no longer true."

Pausing for a moment to build up her courage, Rania breathed deeply and said, "I humbly request that my mother and I be granted lodging in the palace, and in return, we shall be employed in any manner others see fit to repay our debt of gratitude. However, please understand that I ask this not for my own benefit, but so that my mother can be given the life I believe she deserves."

There was silence. Fearing that she had asked the wrong thing of Atem, Rania lifted her gaze from the gold-tiled floor. The Pharaoh was looking at her with a thorough, thoughtful gaze, although the hint of affection remained in his violet eyes. Then, slowly, he did the last action Rania had possibly expected, given what she had asked. His face broke into a smile, and his eyes seemed to magnify its radiance tenfold. "Never, during my brief reign thus far, have I come across a request so selfless. Usually, the people I speak to would use their circumstances to only better themselves or they would try to take advantage of the people below them. However, there seem to be no conflicts to warrant that." His smile shrinking to a small grin, Atem nodded and said, "Very well. It shall be as you have asked, Rania."

Overwhelmed with the magnitude of the request she had had granted, Rania immediately bent her knees and her head in a deep curtsy, exhaling all the anxiety she had had about the request out in a few words: "Thank you, Atem."

He returned her gesture of thanks with an equally gracious nod. "However, that doesn't explain the reason for your intrusions into palace life, especially the Council meetings."

"I was only listening for any information that would aid my mother and I in our plight. I swear, my lord, that before too much time had passed, I would have come to request an audience of my own volition," Rania answered, feeling some of the panic start to creep back in as the Pharaoh's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Once again, her worst fears were assuaged as, after a critical moment of studying her face, Atem nodded finally, as the kindness appeared to flow back into those piercing violet orbs. "Now tell me," he said as she straightened, for he had returned his attention to the map again, "did I make the right choice?"

"I believe you took the right precautions for the land's safety, my lord, especially for the people in the outlying villages that are more vulnerable to an attack," Rania started, trying to recall the details of the meeting as she placed her hands along the side of the table, to better see the parchment spread between them. "The magicians' barrier should prove quite useful, as well as the deployment of the garrison."

"I'm not so sure of that," Atem began, a frown wrinkling his brow. At Raina's curious glance, he sighed and elaborated, "If this creature can harm others by its mere sight, and if it were to overpower the barrier, then the garrison would be useless against it."

"You have assigned your strongest magicians to the task, Atem," Rania said, her voice full of reassurance as she traced her hand along the barrier he had marked. "The spirit will not harm the villages that are not close to the main route. It will not even harm the people closest to the palace road if you were to offer asylum to them before it reaches here."

"You truly think that would be the best decision?" he asked, tilting his head. His eyes appeared to be trying to discern what she was thinking about this matter.

Becoming wary, both from his appearance and his question, she said carefully, "I am only voicing my opinion, my lord."

"Your opinion is no doubt drawing off of the knowledge of the greatest general in my father's army," Atem stated, in all manner of seriousness, "and therefore it will count."

"Then . . . yes. I think that would be the right choice to make in this situation," Rania said, turning slightly red from the Pharaoh's compliment.

Giving her a grateful smile, which she pleasantly returned with respect, Atem turned away from the table with the words, "I will think most cautiously on what you have said, Rania. Now," he continued, for he had walked over to the balcony overlooking the kingdom as he beckoned to her, "now I shall reveal the reason for why I have summoned you here tonight."

Walking over to the edge of the balcony also, Rania leant against the stone barrier that enclosed it, grateful to allow her tired feet a little rest as she looked at Atem inquisitively. "What is it?"

Looking as if he were trying to compose his thoughts, Atem looked up at the countless stars hovering above in the night sky. After a few minutes of silence, interrupted only by the nocturnal desert cacophony, the Pharaoh turned toward her with a gaze of such intensity that she shivered despite the warmth of the air.

"Your voice, and your song, is unlike anything I have ever heard, Rania," he said, his own voice not lacking in longing. "When I hear it, it seems to spirit away the burdens of my position, and it is as potent as any medicinal remedy. It is for this reason that I ask that you sing at the Festival of Opet, which will be a few days hence. During that time, if you and your mother wish it, you may take up your residence in the palace before the Festival, or you may wait until after. I will leave that choice up to you."

"M-my lord, I don't know what to say . . . " Rania stammered, consciously avoiding his eyes after he made his request. She felt her face heat up in the cool air, and under his bent gaze, she thought her soul may as well have been peering out through her eyes.

"I would wish you to say yes," Atem suggested, smiling a little, as though to consciously put her off the thought that the Orichalcos was in control.

"Y-yes, I would be honored," she said quietly, looking up at him. However, as her eyes traveled up his person to meet his, she noticed a tiny emerald-looking stone that was bound around his neck on a silver chain of medium thickness. It was short enough that it peeped out of the neck of his cape at her, as though it were trying to be inconspicuous. Rania knew, with little doubt in her mind, that the stone was a fragment of the cursed Orichalcos. Just the sight of it sent her into a state of such mental fear of the person it held sway over that she couldn't look away. Only his voice, returned to normal, containing the benevolence of before, woke her out of her trance.

"I will be honored as well to listen to you again," the Pharaoh said, appearing to smile genuinely. After a few more moments where each held the gaze of the other, Atem turned toward his chamber door. "I believe that I have kept you for long enough. No doubt your mother is missing you."

"Yes, I believe she must be," Rania agreed, following, then at the door she turned and curtsied deeply once again. "I am sincerely grateful for the honor which you have bestowed, both upon myself and my mother. We will do everything we can to make sure that our debts to you are repaid in full."

"That, I am sure of," Atem answered, as he nodded deeply in response. "Farewell, Rania."

Bowing her head, Rania straightened to look at him one last time, and the sight of the stone, coupled with his imperious, desirous gaze almost made her fall to her knees, lay her soul bare, and cry for mercy from the wretched Orichalcos. She thanked the gods on high when she heard soft footsteps behind her. "Are you ready, Rania?"

Turning and nodding mutely at Isis, it was all she could do to walk calmly out of the Pharaoh's chambers, his gaze politely boring into her back.

. . . . . . .

 **Hello again, world! To all my readers and followers far, I am so, SO sorry that I've taken this long to update. Life kinda got in the way, like a multiple-week trip to my grandma's house, not to mention freshman year of college. But finally, here it is! The long-awaited Chapter 4! Again, I am both open to new ideas and/or constructive criticism, so keep that in mind. I understand I'm a fairly new writer of fanfics, but that's beside the point. Happy reading!**


	5. Chapter 5: There's No Rest for the Wicke

"My lord...Atem...Please..."

There was no kindness in the King's eyes nor pity in his heart as he gazed at the broken form of Rania laying before him. He moved toward her, saw her own eyes whiten like an animal's as he stood over her, and stooped low to dangle his Puzzle mockingly in front of her near unconscious eyes.

"You should not have fallen into the cohort of the Enemy," he whispered in her ear. "Otherwise, I may have had heart enough to spare your life. Now, you shall be taken back to my court, and your fate will be decided through a Millennium Trial."

"I-I will not...you cannot mean..." Sweat from her ordeal dripped down Rania's face, as her breathing, though shallow, sounded like absolute turmoil at the prospect the Orichalcos hoped she was imagining.

"Do not worry about your destination," the Pharaoh hissed, "as I am sure you will find eternity in my Puzzle a more pleasant option than eternity in a tablet." He grinned wickedly at her horror and her feeble movements to recoil, however he caught her wrists and held them.

"No...you wouldn't...Atem, how—" her voice was racked with choking sobs and coughs, "how could you?"

"Through the Orichalcos, I know no rival, nor feeling, nor friend," he answered, pulling her face closer as he held her wrists tighter. "You were merely a sweet little pawn who played her deceptive part perfectly. And now, my dear Rania, our spirits are entwined, for we shall be playing this Game of Darkness for all of time. I am the only being who can access the chambers of the Puzzle."

She turned her head in agony as her eyes clenched shut, and she pleaded with a final breath, "All efforts have come to naught, so I beg you...please end my life..."

Rania's doe-brown eyes rolled back in her head as her body went limp, sliding into unconsciousness. The Pharaoh got down on one knee amid the destruction that was all around them, and traced the one object that had remained undamaged in recent events. The pendant of Commander Aharon still glittered around Rania's neck, as white and pure as it had been on the day she had first entered his audience chamber.

Atem traced the gold lining that rested above Rania's chest, wondering at the irony of it all. Why must the jewel still possess the audacity to shine when he had nearly conquered the bearer? Deciding to leave it on Rania, imagining her final cries and pleas during the Trial, as her slender hand would reach up weakly to grasp the pendant before being sealed inside the Puzzle, a false hope flickering across her face only to be faced with eternal despair tenfold... the image was so tempting that the Orichalcos could hardly contain itself.

Atem slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees, gently lifting her up and carrying her through the smoke. He would order the royal staff to bathe, clothe, and care for her until she was in the best of health before her lovely body's demise. Until that time, he would be cruelly debating about whether he would make little visits, and employ all his methods of power and incentive to get her to confess. His alternative would be to surprise her at the Trial, and through wily words of excitement and fear, force the words from her lips. Either way, confession or not, she would permanently end up in his clutches eventually, then finally, the Orichalcos would be satisfied, and it would retreat from his mind and heart to bury itself deep within the Puzzle as well. He could finally be the true King of Egypt, bringing his people's praises to fruition.

Gazing down at Rania's face, he smiled. "Death is devoutly to be wished, my dear, however, I would not become accustomed to the notion. For the Door of Darkness has been opened, and I 'm afraid you will only find your rest among the wicked."

...

 **Hello again, readers! I know it's been SOO long since I updated properly, but because I have two more finals to go, this chapter is just a little teaser that the Pharaoh has a dream about. So let me know what you think down in the comments, and I promise I'll upload a full-length chapter in a week or so!**


	6. Chapter 6: Reflections

**Hello, dear readers! Pardon me for the amount of time between my teaser and this full-length chapter. I was just busy with the whole holidays commotion, and thinking up stuff and figuring out what to say for the latter part of this chapter. (You'll understand soon.) Anyway, I thought that below I'd make a reference list for the various foreign terms (besides the more obvious, wider-known ones) I use, so here you go! Happy reading!**

 **Am-heh- A man with the head of a vicious hunting dog, he resides on a lake of fire in the underworld. Am-heh means "Devourer of Millions" and he could only be controlled by Atum, the father of the gods. (This is significant cause the Pharaoh's name is a variation of Atum, so keep that in mind as more chapters come out.)**

 **Lake of Fire- These appear both in Christian and Ancient Egyptian religions, as an after-death place for the destruction of the wicked. Fire demons were also frequent here in the Ancient Egyptian underworld.**

 **Ammit- Known as the "Devourer of the Dead", she is a demon who has the head of a crocodile, the front body of a lion, and the back body of a hippo. After death, a person's heart would be weighed by Anubis, the god of the dead, on a scale against the feather of Ma'at, the goddess of truth and justice. If the heart was heavier than the feather, the person's soul would be deemed "impure," and Ammit would eat the heart, dooming the person to wander forever as a restless spirit.**

 **Renenutet- the goddess of plenty and good fortune.**

 **Shematy- 1/12 of a deben, the metric equivalent of 13.6 grams in the Middle and Old Kingdoms of Egypt, and 91 grams during the New Kingdom of Egypt.**

 **Season- Unlike ours, the Egyptians divided the calendar year into three 120-day seasons, which were made up of 4 months of 30 days.**

 **. . .**

Atem woke, sitting bolt upright as Rania's lifeless face passed into darkness behind his mind's eye. With one hand, he shakily wiped a thin sheen of sweat off his face as he attempted to process his vision. His hand trailed down his chin to touch the stone resting on his bare chest, as he picked it up and gazed at the Orichalcos.

 _What caused me to have that dream? The way I was acting . . . My thought processes . . . By the gods, I was Am-heh himself!_

Dropping the stone to let it dangle on its chain, the Pharaoh put his face in his hands, then slid them back through his hair in exasperation. Untangling himself from the fine sheets covering his bed, he went out his chamber door to the dew-soaked balcony, as the first sun rays lightly began to kiss the tops of his feet. Leaning his forearms against the cold stone barrier, he looked into the distance toward the village, which was already bathing in Ra's glow. His eyes lighted on Rania's dwelling, even at this distance, where he was certain she and her mother would be going about their village life.

Notwithstanding the fact that they were going to be living in the palace in five (or more) days' time. _She_ was going to be inside his domain, permanently. He felt his lips start to curl up into a smile, then part of his nightmare sounded inside his mind.

" _No . . . You wouldn't . . . Atem, how . . . how could you?_ "

Her wide gaze flashed behind his own so that he no longer saw the bright white of the still-dawning sky, but the whites of Rania's eyes. They had been sick with fear, yet they were frozen on Atem's face, and not on the object that, he was sure, had caused the damage. Fingering the necklace again, he weighed some considerations:

 _Though that was a dream, it felt as strong as any vision. I thought and performed every action I took. Yet Rania . . . she looked petrified, as if Am-heh really_ were _standing before her, whispering those foul words in her ear . . . Do I truly become that hideous, greedy being in the future? Do I succumb to the darkness, so that if I do not heed this nightmare's warning, I may see that same dread in her in reality? That could already be true . . . I've seen that expression before, though not quite as strong, during my last few encounters . . . Could there be a connection between Rania's fear and the Orichalcos?_

Mystified, Atem held up the stone by its chain. The light-green crystal flickered innocently in the shadows that were still cast by the fleeing darkness, as though asking whether it was capable of enticing the wearer to do such deeds.

" _please end my life . . ._ "

As the spectre of Rania's final plea echoed throughout his mind, he deciphered for the first time, alongside the hopelessness that had seemed to flood her very being as she lay caught by his hands, _resignation,_ no doubt toward the fate worse than death that the Pharaoh had promised her.

Shaking his head to clear her heartbreaking voice from his mind, Atem mentally admitted his own pure, growing feelings for the girl as he rashly wondered what would happen were he to tear the stone and chain from his neck and cast them into the now-glittering air far above the desert sand. Were that not enough, he thought, as his fury at this evil grew, perhaps he could journey to the netherworld and throw the Orichalcos deep into the very Lake of Fire itself. Perhaps he might be lost to the jaws of Ammit or some other demons, and perhaps his kingdom would be bereft of its ruler, but at least no kind of harm would await and reveal itself to Rania.

Refocusing his gaze on the crystal before his eyes, Atem wondered what he would gain from the exchange, weighing what his own efforts had given him and what he would stand to lose should he dispose of the valuable stone: the respect of a girl against a fulfilled lust, the awe and obedience of a kingdom against the fear from his enemies, and finally, regard for himself as an honorable person against the inevitable power. Clenching his hand around the stone suddenly, the Pharaoh reflected on his ultimate choice. _I, however, have gained increasing power since the Orichalcos has granted this shard to me, power that I can use to shield Rania and all the realm from any threat that lurks outside our borders. No, my own feelings toward the realm will ultimately triumph over the shadows that reside within._

His reflections finished, Atem turned aside from the memory-inducing sunrise into the shadowy compartments of the royal chambers.

. . .

Five days.

Five short days to make the transition from the once well-off village dwelling of her husband to the considerably richer buildings of the palace servants. Even after all the years spent practically in its shadow, Charissa never dreamed that she would have the chance to set foot where Aharon had walked.

Yet, here she was, breathlessly thanking the goddess Renenutet for her blessing upon her and her daughter as Ra rose to reign over the heavens. She was still not sure if this was a waking dream, for Rania had insisted on telling her in the morning, once Isis had escorted her back the previous night. Such was the effect of the news on Charissa that, she was sure, sleep could hardly have been had the previous night had she been it's receiver.

Sleep had surprisingly been the first thing on the bearer's mind when she brought back the news. Charissa glanced over to where Rania was going about her morning chores, a small smile ever on her face when she saw her mother. Charissa knew that she was most likely thinking about her request, and about how graciously it had been granted by the Pharaoh.

As she sat by one of only two windows in their little dwelling, Charissa saw one such sight as would make her daughter forget her happiness. Even from the distance they were at, she could see clearly the Pharaoh's outline on his private balcony, his presence emphasized by his ever-unruly hair. He appeared to be just leaning on the railing and looking in their general direction; whether his gaze was merely sweeping the distant landscape or pinpointed on their building alone, she could not be certain.

She was certain however, based on the times he had ventured into their village, always maintaining a respectful distance, to visit her beloved daughter. She had viewed the varying expressions on her face when she had turned back from the window where they had held their consort: hope, pity, and always an undercurrent of fear.

 _You will not get what you ultimately want,_ thought Charissa as she witnessed Atem's form eventually turning away from the light of the outside world. _Rania will figure out a way to reveal the truth. Yet, should you fall under the demands of the Orichalcos with her, neither Ra nor all the gods will stop your immortal soul from being damned to the netherworld._

. . .

There was no telling what situation might fall upon one in those ancient times, especially when one was far away from the formality and predictability of the royal apartments. Priest Seto knew this all too well, as he sat in the outskirts of one of the kingdom's outlying villages. Night had fallen, his day spent by following orders and riding to each of the villages to supervise the division and deployment of the kingdom's soldiers. The little fire he had made was luckily able to ward off the slight chill in the air as he sat hunched beside it, resigned to spending the night camped out in the village as it was too late to attempt the journey back to the palace.

 _At first light, I'll ride back and give the report,_ he thought to himself. Meanwhile, he idly tilted his head against the cool night wind, which was carrying back to him, as he listened, to the amusing speculations of his two guards on the nightly watch as they stood on the small camp's outskirts.

"Sure is quiet out here," he heard one mutter, detecting a hint of nervousness.

"Too quiet, I think," said the comrade, as Seto heard the next guard shift his stance in the sand. "Usually there's at least some noise back in the city."

"Maybe it's on account of the creature that it's so still out here."

"Could be." Now there were definitely nerves playing a part between the two. "It might have killed everyone off before we got here."

Seto stood up, unbeknownst to the guards, who were still prattling on about their own superstitions. Eyeing the fire, he was wondering just how ignorant one had to be to say that a town was void of life, when he had clearly picked up some signs himself, when he turned around at the first guard's start. "What was that?"

Not wishing to hear any more explanatory talk, Seto walked up behind the two guards dismissively. "That was your imagination running away with you," he said as the two turned to him in surprise, looking more than a little startled.

"Master Seto-" the second guard stammered.

"Spare me the details," the High Priest said, cutting him off. "I've heard enough about how that simple little briefing from Mahad can just worm its way into your hearts before you care to give it one shematy of critical thought."

The second guard's ready-made apology was shortened by his companion's second start that night. "There it is again!" he cried, pointing wildly in the direction from whence a pale blue light briefly flickered.

Although all eyes instantly snapped to it at the mention of the guard's panic, Seto merely regarded it smugly, even going so far as to snort in amusement. "Perhaps it is only lightening."

"What if it really is something out there?" the second guard asked, and there was finally a tremor in his voice.

Wondering how such cowards came to earn their place in the ranks, Seto smirked and said, "Then I'd be interested to see how two of the Pharaoh's superstitious guards handle it."

Throwing his companion a glare, the first guard, favoring one side, began to slowly approach the point in the starlit desert where the light had last been seen. The firelight accented the guard's movements and made them more dramatic as his slightly hunched form slipped into the dark. The second mirrored him, cautiously stepping along toward the other side, looks of apprehension on their faces. Seto followed them, noticing with disgust how tensely they gripped the shafts of their spears.

The source of the light came off of a magnificent blue earring, dangling from the ear of and partially obscured by the long white locks of a rather foreign-looking girl. Her skin was ghostly-pale compared to that of the native Egyptians that were now creeping up on her, and her manner of dress-which were the lightest shade of blue and looked like the type of clothing a dancer would wear-instantly singled her out. She was kneeling in front of one of the few tents that the guards had set up, moving sand back from the entrance with careful hands. Whether due to the nervousness of the two men or hyper-awareness on her part, Seto thought, either way she turned her head to spot her would-be captors. Widened turquoise eyes grew narrow in an instant, as her steady hand shot toward the sand.

"Aahh!" The first guard stopped short and reeled in place as he desperately pawed at his eyes. Puffs of sand that were kicked up from her running feet followed the cloud that had shot from the girl's hand into the guard's face. Pausing beside his comrade, the second guard glanced at his companion before lowering his spear and charging after the fleet-of-foot thief. "Halt, in the name of the Pharaoh!"

"Nice try, mutt!" she spat over her shoulder as she started running even faster.

As the second guard continued to give chase, the first, his eyes clear enough so he could manage to see, dashed ahead of his comrade and, through what appeared to be sheer determination, tackled her about the waist. The both of them fell, the girl writhing and scrabbling at the sand like mad, desperate to get away. "Help me get ahold of her!" he called to his friend, as he kept wrestling with her, pinning her by her legs as it was. Every few seconds it seemed like he would lose his hold. "She's like a fish!"

His comrade complied and jumped into the fray as well, and after a few minutes of something that resembled a brawl, they had her, managing to drag her upright, even though with that position came a whole new set of challenges.

"Well done," said Seto, for he had been walking behind them quickly, not wishing to miss out on the situation. He now came up between them, as smugly as when he had interrupted their superstitious discussion. Glancing at each of them in turn, he nodded and acknowledged, "It appears you two aren't as hopeless as I imagined."

After he'd met the guards' gazes, which were somewhat changed considering the high praise they had earned (for it _was_ Seto after all), he turned his attention to the girl. The two had hold of each of her arms, and held them tightly across her back, yet still she struggled, lurching her shoulders forward every now and then as though hoping to catch them off guard. She glared up at Seto with the eyes that were an unsettling shade of turquoise, turquoise that now seemed to be transformed into an icy fire in her face.

"We're happy to be of service, Lord Seto," stammered the first guard, blinking furiously to clear the remaining sand out of his eyes, as both of his hands were occupied.

"Indeed we are," said the second, nodding vehemently to emphasize his gratitude, although he seemed to struggle with his composure since the girl was jerking at him every two seconds.

Seto waved their grovelling aside dismissively with a careless hand. "Why don't we return to camp for some proper questioning?" He started walking over one of the dunes that stood between them and their settlement without bothering to glance behind. However, as before, he was listening, with intense interest now, to the goings-on that were taking place behind him. He chuckled to himself as the first thing he heard was the protesting shout of the captive: "Get your filthy hands off me!" There was then a scuffling sound, as the High Priest inferred that she had renewed her struggle with even more energy than she had expelled beforehand as she was dragged onward.

"We don't really have a choice," came the sympathetic murmur, and Seto guessed that it was the second guard before he continued, "because you'd run away again and it'd be our hides."

"Better yours than mine!" _Thunk._

Turning around rather impatiently to see what the disturbance was, Seto beheld the second guard with a grimace on his face as one of his knees shook, and the girl with a temporary smug look before going back to struggling, then at his look the guard straightened and fell silent as he turned back around before walking on.

"Quit your squirming! You aren't getting away so stop trying!" said the first guard.

"Not a chance, meathead!" came the shout, as Seto heard the sound of yet _another_ scuffle.

After a minute or so, there came the sounds of both male and female grunting, along with sand sliding, so Seto inferred that they must be pulling against each other. After another minute, the first guard asked, groaning, "Lord Seto, would it not be simpler to merely imprison this girl?" At this, she struggled even harder, and from the sounds of the guards, she nearly broke free.

"Perhaps," he replied, without looking back, "but the fact remains to be seen as to what reason she was loitering around our camp. We won't get anything out of her with mere imprisonment."

"Who says you'll get anything out of me either way?!" came the retort, two more _thunks_ , and "Ouch! Stop that!" "Ow" from the respective soldiers.

Seto answered airily, "I say, and eventually my comrades will when they hear your tale."

"You act like you know me. That's a laugh!" A few exclamations came from the two as Seto guessed she nearly broke away _again_.

A sound of exasperation followed from the first guard. "Now we said to stop that! You act just like the Thief King! Except it took ten of us to hold onto him."

"It took fifteen, you moron, and he still got away!"

"A fine legacy that you're doing a great job of following," muttered the second. The High Priest wondered if he was onto something, for he had also noted something of a resemblance between her and the Thief King, who had been destroyed for a little more than a season and a half.

"Hardly!" she spat as it sounded like she was trying once more to get out of their grasp.

Just about at the end of his wits with those two, Seto, with relief, strode over the last dune and beheld their camp. Upon reaching one of their tents, he moved to the side of the entrance to make it clear that the guards should conduct the girl in ahead of him. This they did, sighing, albeit with the hardest pulling they had ever done thus far in their conquest, and all the more struggling on the foreigner's part. Eventually they got her into the tent, as Seto watched in amusement as strain became evident on all of their foreheads.

Panting, all of them stood still, resting temporarily until the first guard asked, trying not to sound hopeful, "Should we tie her up and leave her to you, Lord Seto?"

Somewhat dryly, he answered, "You can, then take up positions outside in case she tries to run away yet again."

Eager to follow orders, the second guard nodded. "Yes, Lord Seto." He reached toward his belt to where some cords hung as the girl eyed him with loathing.

The first guard, understanding his intentions, quickly grabbed the girl in a headlock before she could break free as she protested and clawed at his arm. "Get off of me!" He then threw his companion a quizzical look. "Do you think we ought to check her for weapons?"

The second guard swallowed nervously, nodded, and proceeded to awkwardly pat her down, realizing he had only gotten the short end of the stick when he got kicked and scratched at all the while. When the process was done, he knew it hadn't been for nothing, as he straightened with relief, holding three small yet elaborately-made throwing daggers.

The glare that the girl gave him caused his blood to freeze, as she spoke with all the authority of one about to issue a death sentence. "You put those back _right now_ , buster!"

"Who do you think she stole these from?" speculated the first guard with difficulty, as he was now struggling to contain the girl as she strove to reclaim her precious knives. Unfortunately, he chose this moment to start binding her with the cords he hastily grabbed from the second guard, which led him to, as he released her from the headlock, become slightly less bruised and battered than his comrade.

"I earned them fair and square, thank you very much, now give 'em back!"

The second guard smirked. "Earned them from what gambling table?" he asked, as he tilted the blades to catch the rays of moonlight slipping in through the tent flap.

"For your information, they were a gift!" she corrected, watching the knives in his hand and looking absolutely livid.

"Frim the Thief King himself, no doubt," Seto said matter-of-factly, standing in front of her with his arms crossed.

"They're the last things he ever gave me," she answered sullenly, looking downcast as she struggled less, though her eyes still burned. "Now give them back. I'm not going to use them."

The second guard, undergoing a change of heart, looked sympathetic and moved to hand her the blades, but Seto's arm flashed out and prevented him from doing so. Lowering his voice to get his point across, and stepping closer, he said, "Not until you tell us the purpose of your little visit."

"If I'm not mistaken, that was your food tent, wasn't it?" She asked, as the fire in her eyes burned even brighter as they found the orchestrator of her capture.

Sneering as though it should be obvious, Seto said, "Yes, but we only have rations for a few days, and they shouldn't be wasted."

She rolled her eyes, obviously in disgust at the caliber of intelligence her captors were displaying. "Firstly if your men didn't eat as much, they'd last you twice as long, and secondly I'm not after the food. I'm after some of the herbs you're very obviously not using in your cooking."

 _Just how long has this wretch been spying on us?_ Seto thought to himself, becoming a little more interested in what she had to say as the second guard, looking slightly offended, asked, "For what?"

A new determination was alight in her turquoise eyes as she ignored the soldiers and focused on the High Priest. "On the outskirts of the closest town, there lives a family that once showed me kindness. Their little girl is sick. I know how to cure her, but I need that herb and this camp was the closest supply. I also know that you are not using it because when cooked, it dampens appetites. If you _are_ using it, then your soldiers are even larger pigs that I first thought."

While Seto mulled over this explanation to himself, the first guard, thinking that he might attempt to get more details, asked, "What _exactly_ are you planning on doing with this herb?"

Giving a sigh of exasperation and another eye-roll, she answered, "Mix it with other more common herbs to help the people who saved my life. Why is this such a hard concept?"

The second guard, still looking slightly miffed, answered, "It's not hard to understand at all."

This earned a look of disbelief and amazement from his companion. "You mean you actually _buy_ her tall tale?"

In answer, the guard shrugged. "It doesn't really seem like a tall tale."

"Gee, maybe because it isn't," answered the girl with a hint of sarcasm. Turning her head to glance at them both, she asked, "And shouldn't you two have gone by now?"

Nodding to his comrade, and partially to her, the guard placed the knives he had uncovered at her feet with more than a little respect, then he strode through the flap with his comrade, completely ignoring the disdainful glare of Seto's dark-blue eyes.

When they were gone, Seto turned his piercing gaze upon her, wondering intently about her motivations. _No one's ever had the audacity to outright fight I or any of my men, except the Thief King himself. Why would someone who appears to have known that vile creature wish to heal anyone? It does seem like quite a realistic lie, yet . . ._

His reflections were interrupted by the girl tossing her head toward her back and impatiently saying, "My sheath for those is in my right sleeve. Since I answered your questions, could you give them back and let me go?"

Regarding the daggers, Seto stooped down and picked one up. Marveling at the beauty of a mere thief's possessions, he tilted the blade this way and that as he said airily, "Perhaps, after one more question I have, if you've been telling the truth thus far."

"Why exactly would I lie?" she queried in a deceptively calm voice, keeping her turquoise eyes on the knife.

"To make a clean getaway, of course," Seto answered nonchalantly, waiting to see what reaction his arrogance would produce.

"Look you, I don't have time for that! If that girl goes without treatment much longer, she'll be beyond my help!" she yelled, as she gave a jerk at her bonds, as though hoping the force of her determination would break them.

Suddenly, as the memory of Mahad's briefing struck him, Seto thought to ask, "What does she happen to be suffering from?"

"There's not really a word for it in your language. Basically, her body's shutting down and she's in a lot of pain. I know because it's happened to me before," she said, a little quieter as she lowered her gaze.

"Would it have any relevance to the creature that has been terrorizing the villages nearby?"

"No," she said, with a newfound attitude as she met his gaze once more. "And perhaps _you_ should be more respectful of the dead."

His hope deflated that the little one hadn't been struck ill by the creature (whom Seto was figuring out with horror was Akefia's spirit), and his pride slightly stung, he responded, "I am aware of that, however that spirit is taking innocent lives with it." Lowering his voice and hoping to get a point across, Seto said, "Lives not unlike that girl you're attempting to save."

Her response, as the fiery eyes brightened, caused a chill to creep across Seto's skin. "Not unlike the people of Kul Elna."

Stiffening, he retorted sternly, "Neither I nor any of my comrades took part in the Creation." Quickly, as the High Priest pondered what he would do, he momentarily thought of his childhood, when he had been nothing but a commoner as well. Reflecting on that, he would have done the same thing this girl had done, especially for people he cared about and those who cared for him in return. She seemed sincere enough in that regard that he would have let her live, if not go free.

Yet she had dared to talk of the Creation! That blight upon their history, that unspeakable night, when hundreds of souls cried out in terror as they were torn from the still living bodies that harbored them, only to find themselves thrust into the abyss from which would arise their new prisons: the seven Millennium Items.

 _Of course she knows,_ thought Seto in an instant, as he maintained his cold, hard exterior. _If she truly was an accomplice of the Thief King, then she must have lived close to, if not in Kul Elna itself. She must still feel tenfold the sickness and heartache that even some guards will still quail at when reminded._ Even for his reputation in the Pharaoh's court, he could still remember himself shuddering when he had heard what had become of the wrongdoers. If this story were true . . .

Seto had untied her bonds before he really thought about what he was doing. "Now go," he ordered, "before I change my mind about the number of dead I wish to have on my hands."

Picking up the remaining knives off the ground, while rubbing her upper arms where she had been tied, she answered, "I am aware of that. However, can you be considered innocent when you still use the Items made from that slaughter?" Straightening, she held out her hand impatiently. "Also I need my last knife," she said, tucking her white hair behind her ear to fully expose the mystical blue earring that had so petrified the soldiers.

Returning it to her, Seto replied, "I suppose we cannot, however," he continued, repeating what his predecessor had believed, "the Items have helped to keep a greater darkness at bay." Noticing her movement, Seto, out of curiosity, felt his hand becoming drawn to that earring.

Her own hand came up to block his. "I inherited this from my mother two years ago. She was a refugee from a different land where she had been a noble, then my father found her and helped her adjust," she explained, as a little of the downcast look from before came into her eyes, which were no longer blazing, as she looked away. "It and those knives are all I have of family."

Nodding and lowering his hand to his side, Seto acknowledged, "I see," musingly as he walked curtly outside, with her following. "We're letting her go," he announced to the two soldiers.

"What!?" protested the first guard. "My lord, are you sure that's wise?"

"You dare doubt me, soldier?" he asked, giving him an impatient icy look that he did not return. At the girl's perplexed look, he elaborated. "She's answered all of our questions, has she not?"

Agreeing with him, not wishing to be on his bad side, the second was quick to reply, "As far as we could account for, my lord."

The foreigner surprised Seto by interjecting, "Wait a minute." At all of their questioning gazes, she asked, "Didn't you have one more question? You were going to ask it, and then I got impatient." Just as her brows were crinkling awkwardly, she appeared to remember something. "Also, I still need that herb." Reaching into a pouch at her side, she came up with some coins and held it out to Seto somewhat nervously, as her eyes flicked back and forth to the two guards on either side of him. "Five stalks usually costs this much on the market. That's all I need."

Aware of the guards watching rather intently at such an interaction change between the two, Seto accepted the currency and pocketed it. "I have already asked whether you were aware of that spirit. That was the question I most wanted to have answered." Thinking for an instant, he said, "However, I would like to know your name."

"Most people call me Phantom . . ." she said, trailing off, hesitating. After a moment she continued, "but my real name's Ahlmira. If you ever need a favor, that's the name you should look me up by." Putting her fingers to her mouth, she whistled suddenly. Taken aback as the guards and High Priest were, they were even more so when out of the dark came a wild horse that was jet-black. As soft as the night itself, it came to a halt in front of her as she looked at Seto with an awkward gaze that had never been used by her before. "I owe you one, Priest Seto," she said sincerely as she turned away to go toward the food tent, while the horse, without any signal or gesture given, followed her as obediently as a dog.

 _She's obviously not used to respecting authority,_ he thought as he looked after her with bemusement and something like awe in his eyes.

"So that's it?" protested the second guard now, as he turned to look at him irritatedly. "She's just going to go about her business?"

"Weren't you the one that began empathizing with her in the first place?" Seto retorted scathingly, feeling some small satisfaction at their frightened look. "Go back to keeping watch, the both of you, or I'll have you replaced. And—" he left off, watching them about to snap to their duty, raising a finger in warning, "not one word of this reaches anyone," he said, deadly serious. "Understand?"

The poor soldiers' heads nodded until they were bobbing. Seto turned away in disgust to go sit before the fire again, this time to think about the events that had taken place that night.

"Yes sir!" the first guard said as they turned to go back to their long-vacated posts. Watching the pale form of Ahlmira ride off into the desert on the shadowy horse, he murmured to his companion, "Should we tell him the rumors about the Phantom?"

Glancing toward the fire, the first guard hissed back, "Seeing the good mood he's in now? Better not if we want to keep our positions."

"An excellent point," his friend conceded, as the last remnant of their visitor disappeared into the cold night darkness.

 **. . .**

 **That's it for now! Thank you for reading, and please comment! I'm willing to take suggestions and/or constructive criticism!**

 **See you next time!**


	7. Chapter 7: The Man Behind The Monster

**Greetings, FanFiction! I have FINALLY updated! It's been a long time coming, but I think I've finally hammered out a chapter worthy of you all! Again, foreign terms are down below. Sorry for the LONG wait, I was busy finishing my second semester, then some fun summer stuff, and this Thursday two weeks ago I started my first job, but don't worry! I'll try to think of another chapter topic while supervising a bunch of kids (part of Summer Recreation Staff). So cheers, and I'll see you next time!**

 **Household god - Typically a goddess, usually idols that are worshiped in the home, a specific spirit that protects the home, the entire household, or key members.**

 **Hathor - An Ancient Egyptian goddess personifying the principles of joy, music, feminine love, and motherhood.**

 **Son of Ra - One of the Pharaoh's titles.**

 **Tooth-sticks - The VERY ancient predecessors of the toothbrush. They were basically twigs with frayed ends that would apply the pumice - the VERY ancient predecessor of toothpaste - to one's teeth.**

 **Kuzbarah - The Egyptian name for the Coriander herb and its seeds. Having pain-relieving properties, it is useful for headaches, muscle pain, stiffness and arthritis, and rheumatism.**

 **Festival of Opet - An annual celebration in Thebes during the New Kingdom, in the second month of Akhet, the season of the Flooding of the Nile. The statues of the Thebian Triad deities Amun, Mut, and their child Khonsu are escorted in a procession (although the idols themselves are hidden in a sacred barque or boat) from the temple of Amun in Karnak for more than one mile to the temple of Luxor in a marriage celebration. Rebirth is a strong theme and there is a re-coronation ceremony of the Pharaoh. A royal barque would also sail with the gods' vessel, and there were ceremonies in the "Chamber of the Divine King" that would reenact the coronation and thus confirm kingship.**

 **Nut - The Ancient Egyptian goddess of the sky, depicted as a star-covered woman arched over the earth.**

 **Horus - The son of Isis and Osiris, depicted as a warrior with the head of a falcon.**

 **Meaning of OC's names:**

 **Rania - Delightful (Rah-neeya)**

 **Aharon - Exalted (Ah-harh-on)**

 **Charissa - Grace (Kah-riss-ah)**

 **Nour - Luminous (Noor)**

. . .

Moving her hands over the fine cloth sheet covering her bed, Rania awoke in what she thought was still a dream. Propping herself up, she looked around at the room the Pharaoh had chosen himself from the servants' quarters. It was finely furnished, given the status Rania had gained for herself and her mother as servants in the royal household.

Her bed fell in the far left corner of the comfortably-sized chamber, as did her mother's in the opposite right corner a few paces away. All of their possessions had been transported to their room in the palace, including the figure of their household god, Hathor. Getting out of bed (after remaking it neatly) and going over to where the figure had been set up on a small wood pedestal, Rania knelt on the stone floor and bowed her head for a few moments, praying to the goddess after whispering a few sentences of praise and thanksgiving. Then she silently implored Hathor to aid her in the duty that the Guardian Isis had indirectly asked of her: that of watching over the Pharaoh.

"Just as you receive and protect Ra each night so he may be reborn in the morning, please help me keep a watchful gaze over the Son of Ra, so that he may be brought back into the light."

Her prayer finished, Rania stood up and looked at her mother's bed. Charissa was still sleeping peacefully on her side, which was her daughter's favorite position too. She looked so serene, her long black hair fanning out over her pillow, that Rania felt guilty about having to wake her. Yet, becoming aware of a slight commotion out in the corridor that bordered the servants' wing, Rania went over to her.

"Mother," she whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling gently as Charissa shifted sleepily, "I think it is time for us to get ready."

Stirring, Charissa put a hand to her eyes and rubbed them as she opened them, then she sat up and yawned while Rania giggled. "Thank you, Rania," she said, smiling. "I'll be ready in a while."

As her mother went over to Hathor to offer her own thanks, Rania hastily went into a small separate chamber, where she found two dresses befitting maids laid out on a bed of stone that jutted out from the wall. Changing into the slightly smaller one, she was pleased to find that it covered her shoulders and ankles modestly, and it had two layers: one white layer which fitted snugly to the body, and an thin, translucent outer layer (which spread to cover the shoulders and chest like a kind of shawl) which was quite light and airy compared to the manner of dress she was used to as a villager. She was surprised, however, to find eight bands of gold laying on the stone. Uncertain as to the intention of these, Rania decided she would ask her mother later.

Upon examining her small surroundings further, she discovered two tooth-sticks, not unlike the ones used by her and her mother. There was also a carved stone box of powder (which smelt vaguely of ash and pumice, Rania knew from her forays to the market) that was applied to the twig bristles at the end in order to clean one's teeth.

Plucking up her resolve, Rania took one of the sticks, lightly dusted the bristles in the powder, and quickly cleaned her teeth, swallowing the mix whose slightly more pleasant taste she knew would take time getting used to.

As the commotion outside increased in volume, Rania took her four gold bands and her discarded clothing and went out of the small chamber to find her mother just getting up from her prayers. At the naturally questioning glance on Rania's face, Charissa tilted her head and asked, "Yes, Rania?"

She held out her hand in answer. "These bands were in that small chamber, along with our clothing. What do you believe they mean, Mother?"

Charissa shrugged. "They are probably just signaling to other people that we are palace servants. Surely you saw a few when you visited four days ago."

Thinking back on it, Rania realized that she could indeed remember figures bearing those symbols when she had gone to make the request of the Pharaoh. Relieved that she wasn't being singled out, she nodded as she went to place her old dress on her bed. "As with many other times, you're right, Mother."

Smiling gently, and gesturing for her to come closer, Charissa carefully clasped each band on Rania's wrists and upper arms, the thicker bands on the arms and the thinner ones on the wrists. Hastily going into the chamber, grabbing Charissa's bands and doing the same for her, Rania stepped forward as her mother kissed her head in thanks. "One day, it shall be so for you, my daughter," she replied, smiling lovingly as she disappeared into the chamber to change as well.

"I had no idea there were this many servants," Rania breathed in awe, as she looked about the sizable chamber where everyone was taking their breakfast. This was the one of many rooms that was decorated with hieroglyphs in the servants' wing, and was quite hot with so many people in the chamber that seemed almost filled to capacity.

Gazing around, as they appreciatively ate their bread and fish, which the cooks were dishing out into clay bowls, Rania still felt in awe as she looked about at the number of people that were required to run the royal household.

Some of the women and girls wore elaborate beaded wigs, and she could smell the faint scent of sweet oil as a few passed by their table. Collars that looked of great ornamental value rested at the base of their throats, and their kohl and various makeups were applied more generously than the others. The men's dress varied just slightly from the women's, consisting of what looked like a long tunic, and a good number of them wore undecorated wigs also. Most of the servants in that chamber, like Charissa and Rania, wore sandals as well.

Taking it all in, Rania was only slightly startled when someone paused directly in front of her. "Excuse me, but are you new here?"

Rania looked in answer, and saw a boy a little older than herself looking back at her. He was a few palms taller than her, and he looked about nineteen years of age. She was mildly surprised to see that he wore nothing of value like the women and some of the men, (except for the sandals and tunic) yet there was a slight air of command about him as he looked down at her and her mother.

Taking in his short, curly pale hair and green eyes, framed in a face of a lighter complexion than hers, Rania replied, "Yes, we only moved into our quarters yesterday."

His eyes widening marginally, he asked, "Are you by any chance the widow and daughter of Commander Aharon?"

"Yes, we are," Charissa answered, looking at the boy quizzically. "How did you know that?"

"The Pharaoh himself chose your quarters, which has never happened before in all the time I've been the son of the Royal Overseer."

"The overseer of his servants?" she asked, understanding.

"Indeed," he answered, nodding. "I understand you're to take part in tomorrow eve's Festival, and as such my father has direct orders that you are not to begin your duties until after."

"Sir—" Rania began, seeing Charissa look at her pointedly at the boy's last sentence.

"Nour," the boy said, interjecting, then made a gesture for her to continue.

"-Nour," she responded, "with all due respect, did your father explain why he received these orders?"

"I'm afraid not," Nour replied, shaking his head. "My guess would be that you both are of great significance to the Pharaoh if he's deigned to treat you this way."

"I suppose so," she answered airily, feeling his curious gaze.

Feeling that he would not pry on the subject, Charissa asked, "Have you been told what we are to do in His Majesty's service?"

"I believe both you and your daughter are going to be employed in the kitchens," Nour replied, taking in both of their reactions. "Also you are to run designated errands for various officials of the palace."

"But what are we to do during either of those times?" Rania asked, a curious frown creasing her brow.

Chuckling, Nour reassured her, "Do not worry. The people that now hold those positions have held them for some time, as the need has arisen and fallen. I am sure they will help you after the Festival."

"Alright. Thank you, Nour, for your aid," she responded, nodding graciously to him as her mother offered her thanks as well.

"It is my pleasure to aid any body given such designation by the Pharaoh," Nour said, smiling so that his emerald eyes lit up with a genuine pleasure. Slightly bowing to the both of them in response, he turned away and was soon lost among the crowd of servants.

"He seems quite honorable," Charissa commented as she saw Rania watching him leave.

"Yes," Rania nodded, turning her gaze to her mother as she finished the last of her fish and bread, ignoring the unusual strain she felt in her throat. Rising to take her dish back to the cooks, she commented, "Yet it is the Festival I must focus on now for Ra's next few journeys."

"Indeed," her mother nodded, rising beside her and walking slightly behind her. She became confused, however, as Rania suddenly stopped, far from where they were supposed to dispose of their clay bowls.

"Mother . . ." she whispered from where she stood, turning around to face her. Charissa looked on in concern as Rania raised her hand to her throat, then she sat slowly, hesitantly, into the nearest seat and appeared to be struggling to keep her eyes open. "The Pharaoh . . . will be angered," she muttered as her eyelids drooped, and she leaned her head on her folded arms on the table, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The last thing she could coherently remember were curious faces crowding into her field of vision at this unusual behavior, not least of all her mother, who yet was fighting to make space as she cried, her face full of fear and concern, "Nour!"

It had been quite a predictable day for the Royal Overseer. As soon as he had finished fulfilling his duties at first light, he had reported the conditions to one of the Guardians, as per the chain of command. Now, as he had secured a comfortable position for his son, his wife, and himself some years ago, he was quite content to be relaxing on a chair in the sunlight that came through his window, one of the only ones around the servants' wing. However, fate had the unfortunate role of interferer in the overseer's generally good life.

A creak of his door announced someone's arrival. Mildly turning his head to find the source of the disturbance, he was only slightly surprised to see his son framed in the entrance, a look of distress on his face. "Forgive me, Father," Nour said, stepping into the chamber. "It was not my wish to disturb you."

"Speak, son, you know you are free to do so in my presence as well as that of others," said the Royal Overseer assuringly, turning his body and tilting his head to better hear the cause of the boy's uneasiness.

Stepping a few paces further into the room, Nour announced, "Were you yet made aware that the new maidservant Rania, who is to sing at the Festival of Opet a night hence, has fallen ill?"

"I was indeed not. Are the physicians tending her?" his father immediately asked, aware that such a failure would reflect on him, and therefore on his jeopardized position.

"They are, yet they do not predict she will be in good health in time for the Festival." The Overseer could see that his son was hesitating, yet only for a moment. "Isn't it at this time that it would be appropriate to avoid the usual chain of command?"

"Are you suggesting—?" stammered the father, amazed at the utter straightforward request, and he leaned forward, as though to better view his son would convince him that the boy spoke sense.

"Yes, Overseer," Nour said, looking his father in the eye as casually as he had switched to the formality of their duty. "After all, did not the Pharaoh handpick their quarters himself? He must care about them, and seeing that the girl is ill, we are indeed obliged that the news reach his ears."

"Do you realize what you speak of, boy?" With thoughts and fears of bringing his position into peril crowding his mind, the Royal Overseer rose to his feet in all his state and finery. Looking down upon his son with a disbelieving gaze, he said, "I cannot be held responsible for angering the Pharaoh. Remember, you are to follow in my footsteps when I retire as overseer, so if the blame comes upon me, it is not my life, but yours as well, that must bear the force of his hand."

"I have a way to keep your conscience without blemish, then, if you will hear me. I shall go inform him myself," Nour replied with such a force that it took even his father aback.

"Nour-," the Overseer stuttered.

"I have made my choice," said he, looking back up at his father with a respect that still showed itself, despite the sting of his words. "Would not the Pharaoh's disappointment be heightened if the Festival came, and there were no word of its singer or her maladies?"

As the Overseer minusculy conceded this point, Nour nodded in response. "You may continue resting, and I swear by the gods this situation will right itself." With a curt bow, his emerald eyes meeting his father's blue ones, he said, "Farewell, Father," as he strode out of the chamber, leaving the Overseer to feel a mixture of fury and pleasant surprise at what a wise, unselfish young man he had produced.

Fevered thoughts and frenzied visions passed before Rania's closed eyes as she lay amidst her light yet sweaty blankets. She heard through vague ears the gruff mutters of unintelligible spells by a number of physicians surrounding her bed. As their presence diminished, she felt a warm presence draw near, and she opened her eyes ever so slightly to find her mother.

"How are you feeling?" Charissa asked, offering her a small clay bowl full of water.

"How did I get here?" Rania whispered, after drinking a bit and turning her head to look about at their own, now empty, chamber.

"Nour helped me get you back here, after he summoned the physicians," Charissa answered, sitting gently down on the edge of her daughter's bed. "He also went to the Royal Overseer to report your illness, since we are now considered under his orders."

"How late in the day is it?" Rania whispered once again, since her throat was aching so much it would not permit her voice to be heard far.

"It is drawing toward the evening," her mother replied, taking the bowl back from her. "This should help with your fever, along with the incantations."

"They haven't seemed to do much good," she sighed. "My throat feels like the den of a scorpion, and my body seems to have been exposed to the sun all day, even though I've nary once ventured outside."

"Believe me, my daughter, by all the power that the gods vested through me as your mother, you shall be made well again," Charissa said, smiling warmly as she stroked Rania's cheek with cool fingers.

"Thank you, Mother," she said, weakly smiling as well as she turned her head to further feel the sensation of a loving, cold hand against her burning skin.

Her hand pulled away when a soft knock resounded through the wooden door.

Looking confused, yet giving Rania a reassuring smile, her mother stood and went to the entrance, whose frame fell in the far right corner of the opposite wall, with a little hall that created a corner, around which it was impossible to see who the newcomer was. Her heart started beating fast, however, when she heard a gasp come from her mother and a rustle of cloth on the floor. "My lord!" she exclaimed softly in surprise.

"Good evening, Charissa," said the Pharaoh's hushed voice. "I hope I haven't disturbed either of you."

"Not at all. Please, come in," she said, as Rania heard the door creak still more, followed by a few footsteps, then close. "What, if I may ask, are you doing here?"

The two paused behind the corner long enough for Atem to explain, "The son of the Royal Overseer came to beg an audience with me earlier, on behalf of the girl whom this peculiar illness has stricken." A moment of silence, then, "How is she?"

"The physicians have examined her and performed a few incantations, and they left the supplies to treat her here, as they have other patients to tend. She has a fever, which they surmised caused her to become unconscious, and she says she has a very sore and dry throat."

"She's come round?" he asked, sounding surprised. As an explanation, he added, "I've been told everything that's occurred since this morning."

"She has," Charissa answered, walking ahead of the Pharoah and leading him around the corner.

Rania swallowed nervously as she beheld the Pharoah coming to her bedside. This only aggravated her throat, and she raised her hand to it again, as though the action would suppress the internal problem. "My lord," she managed to say painfully, sounding quite hoarse, her doe eyes wide with confusion at this visit.

"Rania," Atem said gratefully, as he came to stand near the edge of her bed. "Thank the gods you're conscious again."

He then frowned in concern, for she had turned her face away from him and looked guilty. "Even in my state . . . I apologize that I cannot be more presentable, my lord." Her voice was just above a whisper.

"The only state that concerns me is your health," the Pharaoh replied sincerely, watching her turn her head back to him in question. "Nothing more," said he, yet as always the Orichalcos was there beneath the surface, reminding his more susceptible side that this was indeed nothing more than a fabrication, a false hope in order to obtain his goal.

"Now," he said, turning aside, "I believe the physicians left supplies?"

"They did indeed, my lord," Charissa replied, beckoning him over to a small wooden table on which, Rania saw before her vision was obscured, lay a number of various colored vials. She had enough time to herself to feel quite embarrassed about her situation, although she knew it couldn't have been helped. Still, glancing down at her servants' dress, she felt utter remorse for the way the linen layers, sticky with sweat, clung to her petite form. Self-consciously, she pulled the blanket covering her higher up her chest.

She had also inwardly feared what Atem's response would be, at her confession that she would not be in the best of health in time for the Festival. Visions of his displeasure, coupled with the fear of the Orichalcos that was naturally magnified ever since she had fallen unconscious, had haunted her.

Unfortunately, as her imagination started to wander down that dark path, it was at that moment that Atem came over with a mixture in a bowl. Gently seating himself on the edge of her bed, glancing toward her as though asking if he was being too intrusive, he frowned. "What is it, Rania?"

Nodding slightly in response to his advances, she swallowed and looked down at her folded hands on the blankets. The sudden pain must have made her gaze appear even frightened as she whispered, "I do not . . . wish to fail you, my lord."

The sensation of his fingers under her chin, with his index finger lightly against her lips, was the last sensation Rania expected to feel, as he softly tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. She was speechless at the expression in his amethyst eyes: the pain and desire that had shown themselves under the bid of the Orichalcos were fleeing under rays of hope and reassurance. "You will not fail, Rania, least of all to me. That is what I came to make sure of."

"Yet, you must cease speaking unless you feel it is absolutely necessary, otherwise the physicians' predictions about your ability to sing really may come to pass," Charissa supplied, coming up beside the both of them. The gentle smile never left her face, however her eyes narrowed momentarily as Atem gently pulled his hand away from her daughter's face.

Rania wordlessly nodded, her heartbeat slightly faster, as Atem gave the mixture in his bowl another stir with a bone spoon. She marveled as the way its' magnificent carved hieroglyphs shone in the soft light of the torch that had been lit in a sconce on the corner by the entryway.

"There are only a few made in all the kingdom, as they are reserved strictly for the practice of medicine," explained the Pharoah, as he caught Rania's inquiring gaze. "The physicians left this because it is carved with healing knowledge, which they believe is relevant in this situation."

Cocking her head and drawing her brows together in curiosity, Rania looked from her mother, to the Pharoah, to the bowl which he held, as she wondered about its contents.

"It is merely milk and honey, along with a little wine to soothe your throat," Charissa explained, standing at the foot of the bed now.

Nodding in thanks, herself hoping she wasn't intruding into the Pharaoh's role as her caretaker, she held out her hands for the bowl, while slowly propping herself up. Nodding and relinquishing it, Atem's hands slid under hers when handling the bowl. Rania was so sure of his benevolent intentions, at least for the present, that she received a rather rude awakening when her eyes slid to the top of his collar. Again, the Orichalcos stone nestled innocently enough, yet its suspicious glow was enough to send her fingers into a sudden convulsion, so she pulled the bowl away quicker than she would have liked.

A sudden spark of sensitivity came into his eyes, as he in turn pulled his hands away into his lap. She was thankful that his eyes stayed on his folded hands for her first bite of the mixture, as she tenderly lipped it off the spoon and savored the sweet taste before slowly swallowing. The milk, honey, and wine complemented each other as they gently slid down Rania's throat.

She opened her eyes from the pure bliss and soothing sweetness to find the Pharaoh glancing at her, a slight smile upon his lips. Her cheeks heating up under his gaze, she only had the courage to mouth " _Thank you"_ in his general direction before returning her eyes to the amber liquid and the bone spoon, sure that she was grinning like a fool.

She continued to eat awkwardly, averting her eyes from her king the whole time. With each spoonful she felt the natural balm sweep away the aching, hoarse feeling in her throat. After the last scrape of the spoon upon the bowl's side and the last lick of honey from its slightly jagged surface, she looked up to suddenly find her mother and the Pharaoh standing and sitting, unmovingly focused on her condition. Coloring at the sudden attention, and swallowing a few times experimentally, she could feel her eyes light up with the realization that her throat didn't feel aggravated anymore. There was no pain at all.

"Are you feeling any better?" Charissa asked, coming toward her side. Atem realized this and quickly allowed her the room to sit beside her daughter again. At her daugher's nod, naturally seeing a question in the pleading brown eyes, Charissa smiled, stroking her face. "You may speak again, if you wish."

"The pain is . . . gone," Rania whispered wonderingly, looking from her mother to the Pharaoh and back again.

Charissa smiled and clasped her daughter's hands warmly, taking the empty bowl from her. "Then all is as it should be. However, since one can't be too careful, the physicians suggested one more precaution against the loss of your voice." She stood up and turned toward the table with the vials.

As Rania's vision was blocked once again, she turned her head and discovered that Atem was now situated at the end of the bed, looking down at her contentedly with the news that she may be alright after all. Blushing once more, she turned her prudent attention to her folded hands in her lap again, waiting for the last promised procedure.

Her mother came back over with an amber-colored vial held in her hands as she seated herself at Rania's side again. Pouring some of the oil into one hand, and holding the vial between her knees, Charissa rubbed her hands together, then proceeded to gently rub the oil on Rania's neck.

"Kuzbarah?" Rania wondered, feeling that her forays into the marketplace had done her knowledge well thus far.

"Yes," Charissa said, "this will help to ease whatever tension is in your throat muscles. Whatever knowledge the physicians have of singing, we should consider ourselves lucky that this general remedy has many particular uses."

Nodding slightly in agreement, Rania looked up so her mother could spread the oil around the front and sides of her neck, sitting up and pulling her shoulder-blade length dark hair away from her neck. Looking up, her eyes met those of the Pharoah.

His violet gaze was thoughtfully directed toward her face and neck as she tilted her chin upwards, exposing a little more usually-vulnerable flesh than she would have liked. His eyes seemed to follow her mother's hands, as though mentally making a note to himself. Learned in all the matters of his realm, Rania could have thought his attention was merely that of an observing physician, and indeed, that was what a non-paranoid person would have imagined.

Yet with her fear of the Orichalcos at hand . .

She mentally shook her head and closed her eyes, flinching a little at sore spots, hoping that when she next opened them none of her conflicting inner emotions were peering out.

When she did, she found the Pharaoh had averted his eyes, perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of resisting the urge to give in to the emerald stone around his neck.

Whatever the reason, Charissa had removed her hands, which had spread the oil all around the front and sides of Rania's throat, where the muscles were. Rania carefully let her hair fall down her back again, and not come over her shoulders.

"Lastly," Charissa stated, "to deal with that fever, the physicians left this." She went over to replace the kuzbarah vial where it belonged, and doused her hands quickly in a water basin. She then turned about, searching for the bowl of water and the damp cloth that had been beside the vials only a moment ago.

She turned to find them in the hands of Atem, who had retaken his place at the foot of the bed. Looking from Charissa to Rania with sincerity in his eyes, he asked two simple words: "May I?"

Charissa nodded, leaving Rania with a heart that beat faster than it ever had done during her encounters with him. The Pharaoh made his way around to her bedside while her mother took up the space he had previously occupied.

With slow, skilled hands he wrung out the small cloth that had been draped over the bowl's side, his gaze focused entirely on his task. Rolling it into a damp ball, he put his now-questioning gaze on Rania.

She instantly turned her head aside in embarrassment, feeling her face heat up with the inevitable blush. Then, slowly, aware of the violet eyes through her peripheral vision, she looked at him, aware of both their statuses but still wanting to protest that she could take care of herself. Yet, knowing what he might think if she were to refuse his offer, Rania bent her head and closed her eyes in submission so he could gently wipe her brow.

After much gentle padding of her face, during which she actually leaned into the cloth's touch because it was so _blissful,_ she raised her head, causing Atem to pause.

"Thank you for your overwhelming hospitality, my lord," said she, with a grateful smile. "I know not what I have done to deserve such attention."

Unrolling the cloth and replacing it on the side of the near-empty bowl, seeming extra attentive to the fact that Charissa was in the chamber, Atem gently took her hand in one of his, freeing them from their perpetual, yet humble, folded position. "Think nothing of it," he said, meeting her eyes. "For Rania, never will one of our gods be more honored than Opet come tomorrow eve's Festival."

Blushing and lowering her gaze, Rania looked up again as the Pharaoh gently squeezed her hand in a parting gesture. "Rest now. I will send Nour in the morning to inquire after your health before the Festival's journey," he said, softly standing from her bed, with the bowl in hand. Turning to replace it on the table, Atem stopped on his way to the door and spoke to Charissa, in the hushed tone he had maintained since entering their chamber. "Thank you for allowing me in to tend her," he said. He turned and smiled gently at Rania, which Charissa missed because she was curtsying to him.

Rania smiled back in thanks, grateful for his aid yet again, and such was the emotion between them at what had happened that she could almost forget the Orichalcos. Almost.

After the Pharaoh had left, Charissa, in concern for her daughter, had asked her about his behavior.

"I believe part of him truly wants me to heal for the Festival tomorrow," she answered strongly. "Why else would he come himself to oversee such a trivial tending?"

"Yet the Orichalcos may simply be feeding off his feelings in order to manipulate him more. You must understand, Rania, that by this time, it is not simply your voice he wishes to have. His intentions toward you, and toward _us_ , have been guessed at, if not by the upper nobility, as far as the Royal Overseer's son. He has visited our chambers wearing no hint of a disguise, as he had when he first heard your voice."

"I have understood his true intentions, Mother, since my audience with him," Rania said gravely. "Yet even though this has been hinted at in some areas of the palace, it is my hope that, through his genuine feelings for me, he will not allow this to be brought before the Royal Court, if that. For I understand the affairs between serving-girls and higher authority, and I assure you, this will _not_ come to that, for all our sakes."

Charissa sighed with reluctance at the unfortunate realization that her daughter knew what she was talking about, for she had been of a marriageable age for some time, at seventeen years. "Thank you, my daughter. I have a feeling that, despite this, you wish to use your good influence to free our King from the Orichalcos' bonds."

Rania slowly nodded.

"I expected nothing less," Charissa said, leaning forward to softly kiss Rania's forehead from where she'd taken her seat on the bed. "Now, you must rest, as it really is evening," she implored, gesturing toward their tiny window, where the night looked in on them. "However, over time, Rania, please be careful around him."

Seeing an understanding pair of eyes looking back at her, Charissa smiled and went to return the physicians' supplies to them, leaving only those that had been used in case the sickness rose up again in the morning.

The Pharaoh returned to his own chambers, determinedly oblivious to any protests that called after him. Ra only knew what they were thinking, he having just emerged from the servant's wings, yet he would ignore their speculations to focus on one slightly surprising thought: _By the gods, she is going to sing for me._

He knew that Rania's voice would, for a period of time, stem the whispering and urging of the Orichalcos where she was concerned. It was so pure and clear the last time she sang that it would surely clear the mind-boggling haze from his mind, for his heart, as far as he knew, had beat with sympathy for her. She had looked so nervous when he'd been brought into her presence; with him standing at the foot of her bed, her graceful, slim form lying there in full view, covered though it was; when she had met his eyes before exposing her dainty neck to the oil; and finally, when she offered her face for him to bathe, with the relief of a sickly person written on it. Indeed, he knew for sure that his heart must be in the right place: that realm of discovering feelings for another.

Yet his mind had been still drowning in the Orichalcos since that memory of Yugi being taken from him hadn't been erased. He didn't quite understand how that had stayed with him, for that had all passed in another life, and he knew inside that Yugi was alive and well. Yet when he had noticed Rania and had become taken with her at that first meeting, especially after hearing her voice, the Orichalcos' power had perpetuated even further. Just these past moments, the Pharaoh had been experiencing thoughts, aside from his sympathy, seeing Rania lying there, that he was sure would get him thrown into the Lake of Fire had he been in the netherworld.

 _No!_ he thought instantly, shaking his head sharply, as he paced his apartments yet again. _I must keep myself pure in order to be worthy of her song tomorrow eve._

Striding out to the same balcony he'd looked out from a few days since, Atem clutched the stone around his neck and desperately looked up as Nut's stars spread themselves across the sky. "Gods of Egypt: Ra, Isis, Horus, Hathor. You who are the Sun, the Divine Mother, the Warrior, the guardian of a woman's love, give me the strength I need to overthrow the evil influence of the Orichalcos. I only wish to harness its power to protect the realm, as well as those dear to me, so please, by your guidance, may I see this through with a clear mind."

His short prayer finished, Atem, with the help of a few summoned servants, went and prepared himself for bed, where nothing awaited him but the struggling of a clear conscience against the dark thoughts he had had before.


End file.
